


Alone at Thanksgiving? Mad at your Dad?

by WinJennster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Meme inspired, Thanksgiving, i don't know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:12:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster/pseuds/WinJennster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the headline that caught Castiel Novak’s eye – as a matter of fact, yes, he was mad at his dad. And his mom. And his overbearing, far too fucking perfect older brother. And his stupid, don’t take anything seriously other older brother.  Really, if it came down to it, he was mad at fate, at God, at pretty much the whole world.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>I am a 35 year old felon with a GED and $5 to his name, and a noisy, late-sixties gas guzzling piece of Detroit glory that I practically live in. I can play between the ages of 25-39 depending on whether or not I shave. I’m a mechanic and work late nights in a bar. I can expound for hours on the genius of Plant/Page. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, simply to torment your family, I’m game.</i></p><p> </p><p>Castiel grinned as he read the Craigslist ad. This dude had a set of brass balls, that was for sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone at Thanksgiving? Mad at your Dad?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this - [Alone at Thanksgiving? Mad at your Dad?](http://discountliquor.tumblr.com/post/103390876984)

**_Alone at Thanksgiving? Mad at your Dad?_ **

It was the headline that caught Castiel Novak’s eye – as a matter of fact, yes, he was mad at his dad. And his mom. And his overbearing, far too fucking perfect older brother. And his stupid, don’t take anything seriously other older brother.  Really, if it came down to it, he was mad at fate, at God, at pretty much the whole world.

_I am a 35 year old felon with a GED and $5 to his name, and a noisy, late-sixties gas guzzling piece of Detroit glory that I practically live in. I can play between the ages of 25-39 depending on whether or not I shave. I’m a mechanic and work late nights in a bar. I can expound for hours on the genius of Plant/Page. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, simply to torment your family, I’m game._

Castiel grinned as he read the Craigslist ad. This dude had a set of brass balls, that was for sure.

_I can do these things at your request; openly hit on female/male guests while you act like you don’t notice; start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion (I’m pretty agnostic and fairly liberal, but I can play a flag waving, gun-toting, friend o’ Jesus, blue-blooded conservative nutcase); propose to you in front of everyone with the shittiest ring we can find; pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (but I don’t really drink much anymore. I used to. A lot. Playing from experience here.); start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see._

_I require no pay, just the free meal I receive as the guest. Extra pie a plus!_

Castiel was already dialing the number before he finished reading the ad.

* * *

 

He met his felon in a Starbucks, and Castiel was so surprised he almost dropped his vanilla half caff soy latte.

His “date” was unfairly hot.

Tall, several inches taller than him, spiky short brown hair, plush pink lips, bright green eyes, and _Jesus_ , thought Castiel, _freckles everywhere._

“Castiel?”

“Yes. Dean?”

“Yup, that’s me. Your official nightmare of a Thanksgiving date.” Dean looked Castiel up and down, eyebrow raising. “Although, it sure isn’t gonna be a nightmare for me. You’re pretty hot.”

Cheeks flaming, Castiel stared down at the ground. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “Nice of you to say.”

“Oh, I mean it. So Cas, can I buy you a coffee?”

“I already have one,” Castiel said, holding up his latte.

“Right,” Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe we should just go? My car’s out front.”

Castiel nodded, and let Dean lead him from the coffee shop. Dean led him to a large – humongous, actually – boat of a car.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding about the car.”

“Yup,” Dean beamed, “this is my baby. A 1967 Chevy Impala with a 327 and a four barrel carb.” He stopped near the hood and spread his arms. “She’s a beauty, and all mine. They sure don’t make them like this anymore.”

“My family all drive Priuses. This will offend them on so many levels!” Castiel said, a gleeful grin spreading across his face.

“Well, I am here to offend. That’s kind of the idea.” Dean scurried to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. “Your chariot awaits.” He gave a low bow.

“That’s a bit too classy, don’t you think?”

Dean frowned. “Huh. Maybe. Yeah, I’m supposed to be a rude dick.” He slammed the door shut. “Open your own door!”

“That’s more like it,” Castiel grumbled, pulling the heavy door open.

When they were both settled, Dean started the car, a mighty roar announcing the Impala’s presence.

“Wow! She is very loud,” Castiel said happily.

“Yes, she is. They’ll hear her coming a mile out.”

“Perfect.”

“Glad you approve.” Dean slipped the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. “So you’re not exactly what I expected.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Dean glanced over briefly before turning back to the road. “I didn’t expect you to be so hot. Bet you could get a better date than me, huh?”

“Your ad said ‘mad at parents?’ and I am mad at my parents.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a bit, as the Impala chewed up the miles under her tires.

“What’s your story? Don’t you have family to spend the holiday with?”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, “not this year. My baby brother is spending it with his girlfriend, and my mom and dad and surrogate dad are all six feet under. Sam’s all I have left, and he wasn’t interested in spending the day with me, so whatever.”

Dean shrugged, a gesture designed to suggest that he didn’t care, but Castiel could tell that he did care, very much in fact.

“So you’re going to saddle yourself with my mess instead?”

“Two words,” Dean shot back, “Free. Pie.”

“My mother does make wonderful pie.”

“Right. So who are you pissed at again?”

“All of them!” Castiel said vehemently. “My parents, and my brothers - they’re all so perfect, and I’m just - I’m not! And I never will be. I mean, I’m sorry I don’t have the perfect job or the absolutely perfect wife. I’m sorry I’m the only one of your children that’s gay. I’m sorry I’m not funny. I’m sorry I’m not a doctor or a lawyer or something you can be proud of. I’m sorry I’m just silly old me with my stupid journalism degree that I’m not even using because I think the media is corrupt. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment!”

“Whoa, Cas, dude. Chill.”

“Why do you keep calling me Cas?”

“Because Castiel is a mouthful.”

“Oh. Well fine then.” Casti- _Cas_ crossed his arms over his chest. “I like it.”

“Good,” Dean grinned.

* * *

 

They pulled up to the house around six, and Cas was not at all surprised that the house was covered in Christmas lights.

“Wow,” Dean whispered reverently.

Cas guessed it was a pretty nice house, the place he’d grown up in.

It was an early twenties bungalow, with a front porch and a large dormered window up top, and since it had snowed, the whole thing was draped with white stuff, all of it glowing with thousands of twinkling lights.

“Pretty,” Dean said, eyes sweeping eagerly over the picturesque scene.

The front door opened, and Chuck, Cas’s father, stepped out onto the porch, waving enthusiastically.

“He uh, he looks happy to see you?”

“That’s my dad. Chuck.”

“And you’re mad at him?”

“Mad at all of them,” Cas corrected.

“Uh, ok. So who am I arguing with?”

“Start a religious discussion with my mom. Hit one of my brothers. I don’t care. Be ugly.”

“Ok. Ready to go in?”

“Yes. And none of that chivalrous door holding crap.” Cas opened his own door, thank you very much.

“Castiel!” Chuck called from the porch. He opened his arms and pulled Cas into a tight hug as soon as he ascended the porch. “Feels like it’s been years. Good to see you, son.”

“Yes, Father. It’s good to see you, too.”

“And you’ve brought someone?”

“Yes. This is Dean. My date.”

He waited for Chuck to explode and be offended by the man shuffling his feet uncomfortably, but Chuck reached out and pulled Dean into a hug as well. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

Dean looked startled, but returned the hug. “Thank you, sir. Nice to meet you, too.”

Chuck nodded. “Well, it’s cold out here. Let’s go inside!”

He went back in the house, and Cas whirled around and glared at Dean. “What the hell was that?”

Dean shrugged. “What? He hugged me. I hugged back.”

“You’re supposed to be an asshole, not all _thank you, sir_ and hugging back! What the hell?!”

“He hugged me first!”

“Still - I mean - oh, you know what? Forget it. Just be the asshole you promised to be! Ok?”

“Ok,” Dean said quietly.

“Good. Or no pie!”

* * *

 

“Well, the 442 was probably one of the coolest things Oldsmobile ever did.”

“Exactly!” Michael said triumphantly. “You really know your cars!”

“I love classic GM.”

“Me too!”

Cas wrapped a hand around Dean’s arm. “Come meet my mother, Dean,” he said forcefully, dragging Dean away from his brother. “Can you stop charming my whole family?” he hissed, as he pulled Dean out into the kitchen. “You’re supposed to be pissing everyone off!”

“Sorry, I -”

“Mother, meet Dean.”

His mother turned from the countertop and wiped her hands on her apron. Naomi swept her eyes over Dean.

“Welcome to our home, Mr. -”

“Winchester,” he supplied helpfully.

“Oh, just like the rifle! Lovely,” she smiled and handed Dean a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Put that on the table for me, please?”

Dean took the bowl from her and turned towards Cas. He grinned and winked, and let the bowl slip from his fingers.

It hit the Spanish tile in Naomi’s spotless kitchen and shattered, potatoes splattering everywhere.

“Oh fuck,” Dean said loudly, “look what my clumsy ass did!”

Naomi looked upset, but she plastered on a fake smile and scooped up a dish towel. “Oh. Oh my. Well.” She knelt to clean up the mess. “It’s ok. It’s just my grandmother’s china. Not important. And I have more potatoes in the pan. It’s ok. It’s fine. Just fine.”

Dean looked at Cas, and he was dismayed by the guilty expression in those green eyes.

He didn’t want him to feel guilty! He wanted Dean to wreck Thanksgiving for his useless family, and do it with aplomb!

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Novak,” Dean said sincerely, kneeling down beside her to help clean up the mess. “I’m so clumsy, and I’ve ruined your dish. I feel like a jerk.”

Naomi looked up as Dean started picking up pieces of shattered china. “Oh, you’re so sweet. I know it was an accident. It’s ok, Dean.” She patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Go on, I’ve got this. Go take your seat.”

Dean picked up a few more pieces before standing. “I really am sorry.”

 _Dammit._ Cas grabbed Dean’s arm and yanked him out of the kitchen. He dragged him through the dining room, past Michael and Gabriel, who both looked up in surprise; past Anna, feeding her and Michael’s son in the living room; past Chuck, talking to Kali, Gabe’s fiancé, in the library. He tugged Dean hard, through the hallway and out to the back porch.

“What the hell was that?” he spluttered. “You’re supposed to be annoying my parents, not making nice with them! I mean, you were discussing classic cars with Michael, who last time I checked drives a PRIUS! You’re talking sexy medical dramas with Gabe, childcare with Anna, and Indian food with Kali, and how proud you are of your damn vegan curry! You’ve managed to charm my father and get my mother to forgive you for breaking a piece of Nana’s china, and who the hell are you? You’re supposed to be causing trouble, not making yourself into the perfect future son-in-law!”

“Dude, well maybe you should cut your family a break! I have yet to see what makes them all so damn awful! At least you have somewhere to be! At least your only shred of family didn’t abandon you to spend Thanksgiving with some girl he barely knows because he’s too embarrassed to be seen with you!”

“What?”

“What?”

“What was - your brother - he abandoned you?”

A flicker of pain danced across Dean’s features. “Yeah, well. Booty call was more interesting I guess. I dunno.” He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “Look, I’m hungry, and I’m dead broke, and I just wanted a hot meal that didn’t involve going to a homeless shelter. Since that’s basically what I am. I just - wanted to pretend - fuck. I’m not really an asshole. And I can’t treat your family like that. You’ve got something good here, man. Take it while you can, ‘cause you never know when it won’t be there anymore.”

“Dean -”

“No, it’s ok. I’ll go. Just - I’ll go.”

Dean walked down the back steps. “Have a good holiday, Cas,” he said quietly, turning and walking down the path. Cas watched him go, his heart sinking.

What had he done? _Dammit._

“You’re not really gonna let him go, are ya Cassie? I’m pretty sure I know what was happening here, but that’s pretty much the most perfect guy you could ask for. Don’t let him slip away, ok?” Gabe handed Cas a black denim jacket. “‘Sides, it’s snowing again and he forgot his coat.”

Cas looked back at Gabe. His brother gave him a knowing smile and patted his back. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Cas nodded, took the jacket and ran down the porch steps.

* * *

 

The Impala was idling out front when he yanked open the passenger door and slipped back inside.

“Cas?” Dean startled, wiping at his face. “What’re doin’?”

“Forgot your jacket.”

“Oh.”

They sat in the car for a bit while the heater warmed the interior. Snow fell softly, coating the windshield and hood of the car.

Dean didn’t say anything. Cas didn’t say anything.

The lights in neighboring houses flickered on one by one, lighting up the street.

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally offered, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to unload my whole sorry life on you. I’m sorry I didn’t live up to my stupid ad.”

“It’s ok.”

“I just - I didn’t -” Dean whimpered slightly. “I didn’t want to be alone. I’m so tired of being alone.” Cas scooted across the front seat, moving closer to Dean. “I don’t even know why you’re so mad at them. They seem like great people.”

Cas sighed. “They are great people. And I’m terribly ungrateful. Dean, would you like to stay for dinner?”

Dean nodded.

“Then why don’t you shut off the car and come inside? And maybe later, we can go find a coffee place and talk? Because I think I’d like to see you again.”

“I think I’d like that, too.”

Dean shut off the car and got out first, walked around and opened the door for Cas. Cas took his offered hand and let Dean help him from the car.

“Maybe we should tell your folks the truth?”

“Couldn’t hurt. And maybe you should call your brother?”

“Yeah.” Dean tilted his head up to the sky. “Sure is pretty isn’t it?” He looked back down at Cas.

“Sure is.” Cas hooked a hand behind Dean’s neck and pulled him down for a soft kiss.

“What was that for?”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dean.”

Dean smiled, and reached for Cas’s hand. “Happy Thanksgiving, Cas.”

 

**  
**


End file.
